


crucifixion

by respoftw



Series: 2019 Hurt/Comfort Bingo [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Crucifixion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: John wiped his mouth with his hand, clearing his chin of the thin bile that he had just left all over the ground of PY9 -8TY, only mildly surprised to realise his hand was shaking.





	crucifixion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LogicGunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/gifts).



> Ok, so this is a pretty severe hurt/comfort prompt but I've tried not to make it a severe fic - - it's about the rescue not the act itself but still, no hard feelings if you want to avoid this one!

John would have thrown up if he had anything in his stomach to expel. It was almost fortunate that he hadn’t had time to eat in the past twenty-one hours of looking for Rodney. God, twenty-one hours. How long of that had Rodney spent like this - like - - it turned out there was something left to throw up after all.

John wiped his mouth with his hand, clearing his chin of the thin bile that he had just left all over the ground of PY9 -8TY, only mildly surprised to realise his hand was shaking.

The people they had found at the village just south of the gate had sent them here, giving them directions but refusing to take them. John wishes that he had pushed for more information, wishes that he’d been warned what he would find. He’d imagined a lot of horrible things since Rodney had been taken by the militia of this planet while the rest of them slept but nothing came close to this.

Crucifixion.

A method of capital punishment in which the victim is tied or nailed (fuck, no, please not nailed) to a large wooden beam and left to hang, sometimes for several days, until eventual death from exhaustion and asphyxiation.

John took a step forward on shaky legs, moving closer to the one occupied wooden beam in a field of dozens. He could hear Ronon and Teyla fall into step behind him, was dimly aware of Lorne sending two of the marines back to the gate for a medevac jumper that John wasn’t even sure would do any good.

Rodney looked - - god, he looked small. Stripped of his uniform, hanging from a beam that looked wholly unlike any kind of Christian symbol, he looked small and vulnerable and pale and - - he looked dead.

When they finally reached him, John’s eyes moved immediately to Rodney’s outstretched arms, relieved to see them bound by a thick, coarse rope instead of nails. His feet hadn’t been so lucky and John swallowed hard against more bile.

John took off his pack, unclipped his P-90 from his vest and handed them to Teyla. She took them without any words and John could see the shock and horror that he was feeling mirrored in her face. 

Ronon laced his fingers together without needing to be asked and boosted John far enough that he could grab on to the beam Rodney’s arms were tied to. 

The added weight must have shifted the wood and Rodney’s low, pained moan was the sweetest, most horrific sound John had ever heard.

John felt the hot prick of tears in his eyes as he fumbled closer, ignoring the stink and drinking in the slow, trembling breaths that he could hear - proof beyond doubt that Rodney was still with them, with him.

Rodney’s eyes started to flutter and John reached out to touch whatever bit of skin he could reach without falling. He stroked gently at Rodney’s dirty cheek, tear tracks of clean skin trailing through the dust and grime like a knife to John’s heart. 

“Don’t wake up,” he whispered. “Not yet, ok. Wait until we’ve got you down and got you home and - - fuck, Rodney, please hold on, ok. Please hold on.”

Rodney drew in another breath, his chest rattling - a sound John knew he would be hearing in his dreams for the rest of his life. “J’n?”

John’s breath hitched. “Yeah, buddy. It’s me. We’ve got you. Don’t wake up, ok?”

“K,” Rodney said. A small grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile crossed his face before he slipped back to the edge of unconsciousness. 

John heard the whine of a jumper engine approaching and looked up, seeing his team and his people working on the best way to get Rodney down, to get Rodney home, without causing more damage.

“Knew you’d come,” Rodney murmured, his eyes still closed.

John swallowed hard, feeling the tears start to fall. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like your very own gift fic - there are only two squares left to choose: forced to participate in illegal/hurtful activity and job-related trauma. First come, first served . 
> 
> [Bingo Card](https://respoftw.dreamwidth.org/55888.html)
> 
> Next on the list, strapped to a moving vehicle....


End file.
